On The Danger Of Stepping Outside Your Office Door
by Monopoly
Summary: Honestly, if Harry had told them once he had told them a million times to keep their stupid experiments in space and time out of the areas that the general public was likely to tread. My shot at the dimension traveling plot. Mostly DH compliant. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

Hi People. I would really appreciate feedback on this one…It kind of hit me in the period where I should have been doing Physics homework and/or studying for a Calculus test, and wouldn't let go. It seems to want to be a chapter piece, and I'm not great at those, so constructive feedback would be nice. Grazie.

Disclaimer: I own a copy of all the books, but not the franchise and/or copyright.

Harry Potter spared a weary eye to skim over the report lying on his desk. He suspected it was waiting for him to go to sleep so it could eat him—but that was probably just one more delusion supplied by his sleep-deprived brain.

Most people would say that Harry had a great life. Having taken care of that pesky Voldemort problem at the tender age of eighteen, he had proceeded to declare that he was sick of fighting people and had taken up an apprenticeship with Hogwart's resident nurse, Madame Pomfrey. The two of them had quickly discovered that Harry had a talent with the healing arts, and the rest, as they say, is history.

He was now a thirty-five year old senior healer at St. Mark's Private Institute of Healing Arts. Although at first he had mocked the wizarding world in general for having such a generic hospital naming system, Harry had found his proverbial niche at St. Mark's. He had spent the past fifteen years working his way up the seniority ladder from a newbie nurse, and was now occupying one of the top spots in the hospital.

Unfortunately, his high position came with a good deal of paperwork. Harry was currently avoiding a monster stack of papers that were the result of, ironically enough, the annual celebrations of the downfall of Voldemort. Just as with any other major holiday, the anniversary of Voldemort's demise was an accident magnet, and as such made for a very busy day for hospitals all over Britain.

The other monster stack of paper that he was avoiding, mostly by way of not going home, was a pile of fan mail that Harry was sure had accumulated to mountain size in his living room. Voldemort's deathday was the only day Harry allowed mail from the general populace to come through his wards. Fortunately for Harry and his desire to avoid all types of paperwork, he was a bachelor(and had been since finishing Hogwarts, incidentally) and as such could afford to simply not go home for a night.

This particular night, he decided that he would save the paperwork on his desk for in the morning and would go spend the night at Ron and Hermione's house. They never really minded when he stayed over, and he knew they would be letting their kids stay up late on this special holiday night. This meant he would be drafted as an instant babysitter(he could hear the kids now—"Yay! Uncle Harry! Let's play Aurors and Deatheaters! You be the Deatheater, Uncle Harry!") but he was okay with that. He mostly enjoyed spending time with his honorary nieces and nephews. And he never knew—playing babysitter for a night might just land him with another little niece or nephew.

With these thoughts in mind, Harry traded his outer robe for a muggle-style overcoat,(muggle was so much more comfortable!) stuck his key in the lock of his office door, and stepped out intending to close the door behind him.

He never got as far as closing the door, however, because the moment he stepped foot outside his office he stepped right into an inconveniently placed dimensional vortex. Harry's thoughts while flying through this vortex were not very charitable towards its creators, the technology and research department of St. Mark's hospital. Honestly, if Harry had told them once he had told them a million times to keep their stupid experiments in space and time out of the areas that the general public was likely to tread. "Keep them in the labs where they belong," he had sternly told the head techie, "and you'll have much fewer accidents. You take my word for it."

Apparently the head techie hadn't taken his word for it. Harry knew this because he was currently falling through a moody dimensional vortex on his way to who knows where.

Harry abruptly found himself falling through actual air instead of space, and a second later found himself landing on top of an uncomfortably bony body. After a few typical exclamations of "ow!' and "geroff!" and "arghh my LEG!" Harry managed to separate himself from whoever he had belly flopped on to.

He turned around to apologize—only to find himself on the end of an awkwardly positioned and blatantly flustered Severus Snape's wand. Harry suspected the awkward half-collapsed way Snape was sitting was mostly due to his leg, which appeared to be broken. Harry further hypothesized that he was most certainly in an alternate dimension (as opposed to down the street from the hospital) because Severus Snape had quite definitely died more than 15 years ago.

"Oh," Harry said cheerfully, "terribly sorry about that. Here, let me just—" At this point Snape made a distressed noise and tried to jerk away from the crazy man as Harry waved his wand around in a vague sort of pattern, resulting in Snape's leg straightening itself out and the bone mending. Snape gaped as Harry finished with "fix it. Isn't that better?"

"Who are you?" sputtered Snape, scrambling to his feet and re-aiming his wand at Harry's heart. "No—don't move—just stay right there and identify yourself." he snapped as Harry took a slight step forward.

"Easy, easy. I am Healer Brady Devon. I am sorry for landing on you—it was an accident, I assure you." Harry smiled in a friendly manner and raised his wand in the air in surrender. "I come in peace!"

Unfortunately for Harry, the muggle reference went straight over Snape's head. Harry briefly pondered the possibility of this Snape having not grown up in a half-muggle home, but that line of thought was rudely interrupted when Snape asked another angry question. "Who do you work for?"

"The Order of the Phoenix, of course. Didja forget me, Snape?"

While he had thought it witty at the time, Harry would regret being a cheeky brat about 30 seconds after Snape's stupefy hit him.

Harry woke up to quiet but angry voices, and immediately felt disgust at the cliché that was his life.

"I'm telling you, Headmaster, he fell out of thin air, broke my leg, called me by name, and mentioned the Order! He's dangerous!"

"Now, Severus. You also told me that he healed your leg right after breaking it. And didn't Madame Pomfrey say that it was a magnificent piece of spellwork that did it? Top-quality healing, I believe were her words."

"But—"

At this point, Harry decided it would be a good idea to make some sort of awakening noise.

"YarrrMMMMagagagammmm."

Snape wailed in alarm and burst into the curtained-off area that contained Harry's bed. "What in Merlin's name is wrong with you?!?" Dumbledore entered the area at a more sedate pace and twinkled suspiciously at Harry. "Now, Mr…"

"Healer." Harry offered cheerfully.

"My apologies, Healer…"

"Brittanicus." Harry supplied him.

"Right, Healer Brittanicus. I must apologize for Severus's stunning you—he felt threatened by you, apparently. You are currently in the Infirmary of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Perhaps you've heard of it?"

"Wait," interrupted Snape, "his name wasn't Brittanicus earlier."

"Of course it was." snapped Harry. "It's been Kerry Brittanicus since I was born, and I'd like to know how you would know if it hadn't been."

"You told me it was Brady Devon not an hour ago!"

Harry frowned at Snape as though he was a small child. "Nooooo. I told you it was Kerry Brittanicus. I thought I was rather clear about it, too."

Snape's face twitched in an unhealthy manner. "You told me your name was Brady Devon. I heard you say the words 'Brady Devon'. So help me, WHAT IS YOUR NAME?"

"Seren Quintum." Harry said calmly.

"Wait. What?" Snape sputtered snappily.

"Seren Quintum. That's my name, always has been. I told you this not a minute ago. Do you have this much trouble remembering things all the time?"

"But—"

Dumbledore had caught on by this point and was making a valiant effort at not laughing aloud.

"Actually, you might have a real problem. Do you spend twenty minutes looking for your wand every morning, only to realize you had tucked it behind your ear? Do you misplace your eggs at breakfast? Forget important dates? Not recognize your own dear children?"

"But—"

"You see, there is a serious muggle disease, not common to magical folk, but it pops up from time to time. It's called Alzheimer's Disease, and it basically means that your brain is eating you. And your memories. Now, I am a healer, and I can fix you. Tell me, exactly how old are you?"

"BUT!"

"Dear Merlin, he's already forgotten his own age. Quick—you, old man with the long beard—get this man a hospital gown and some ibuprofen. This might take awhile."

Snape had now devolved to stuttering incomprehensible syllables in pure frustrated rage. Dumbledore kindly stepped in between Snape and the bed and smiled pleasantly at Harry.

"If you're quite done mentally harassing my Potions Master, perhaps you could tell me your real name? Necessary for matters of security, you see."

"Oh, of course. My real name is Harry Potter. Pleased to meet you, sir." Harry declared brightly, extending a hand to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore gave a long-suffering sigh. "Really now, that's enough fooling about. You potentially attacked one of my employees and apparently know sensitive information that you shouldn't. Real name please."

Harry, sensing the seriousness of the situation, decided to just let it out. "Fine, fine. I am Mikal Wright. I am 35 years old. I am a senior healer at a small private hospital in Great Britain. I was stepping out of my office this fine night and fell right into an inconveniently place dimensional vortex, and was spit out of it into the air above your lovely Mr. Snape's head. I'm sorry I broke his leg—I fixed it right after. I like pouring butterbeer over vanilla icecream. My middle name is Janet. I sometimes skip down the street when I think no one is looking. I'm craving peanut butter—"

"Thank you, Healer Wright, that's quite enough. Care to explain where you heard the term 'Order of the Phoenix'?"

"I was a member of it, back when Voldemort was still alive. That's how I knew Snape, of course, and how I know that you are Albus Dumbledore. Interestingly enough, where I hail from you both died over 15 years ago." Harry beamed up at Dumbledore and Snape, who looked thoughtful and incredulous, respectively.

"What do you mean, 'back when Voldemort was still alive'? You can't mean he's actually dead!" gasped Snape in obvious disbelief.

"Sure he is. The Potter kid kicked his bucket for him, so to speak. That was nearly 20 years ago now, though, so I'm not sure why it even matters. The Order of the Phoenix isn't exactly a secret anymore."

"Healer Wright…This may seem like a silly question, but what year is it currently?" Dumbledore had an extremely thoughtful look on his face, and was seemed to have suddenly found Harry's face overly fascinating.

"2016, of course. Why do you ask?"

Snape made a quiet choking sound in his throat. "Surely you can't believe that, Headmaster!"

"No, Severus, I sense he is telling the truth in this. Healer Wright, this may be a bit of shock for you, but the year here is 1995. Voldemort is indeed still alive and causing problems, and the Order of the Pheonix is functioning and very secret."

"Oh," said Harry weakly, "if that's all. I think I'll just sit here and wallow in the pathetic drama novel that masquerades as my life, thanks."


	2. Chapter 2

Movin' right along, making a little progress on this story as per requested by YOU, the reader. Thank you all muchly, and I would appreciate continued feedback.

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Look, Wright—"

"HEALER Wright!"

"If you're not going to call me Professor I shouldn't have to call you healer!"

"I heard you not capitalizing my title, Snape."

"Stop changing the subject. You said yourself that you fought for the Order. You shouldn't be complaining about doing the same thing now."

"I never said I fought for the Order, I said I worked for the Order. There's a difference. I'm a lover, not a fighter."

At this Snape gave an irritated snarl, and the argument started right back over from the beginning. They had been bickering for the past half hour over whether Harry should fight with the Order. Apparently, Dumbledore was enamored of the idea of Harry being a field nurse in the frequent skirmishes between the Order and the Death Eaters.

He also seemed to be under the impression that Harry was fond of Snape.

Harry had decided half an hour ago that this Dumbledore was completely senile.

Snape gave Harry an especially obnoxious glare. "You know, Wright, I'm not sure you're in much of a position to argue about anything. There's no record of a Mikal Wright in the Ministry or in the Order. For all we know you're lying about your identity. If I were you, I would be agreeing with whatever the Headmaster gave you to do for the sake of keeping out of the spotlight."

Harry returned the glare with a pleasant smile. "Of course there's no record of another Mikal Wright. Everybody knows that you can only enter a different dimension if you don't exist there. Even if there was a Mikal Wright here at one time, for me to have landed here he must be dead."

Actually, the only thing Harry knew about dimension traveling was that it was extremely inconvenient, but Snape didn't need to know that little bit of information.

Snape looked taken aback at Harry's suggestion. "Is there research to back that up, Wright?"

"Well," Harry said poshly, "as it happens, since I am a senior healer, I occasionally eat lunch with other senior members of the institution. And it just so happens that I had lunch with the head of the Tech and Research department of the hospital one day, and he was prattling about the latest developments in the lab. So I'm going to assume he wasn't just blowing hot air."

"That is—"

Harry didn't get to find out what it was, however, because of an interrupting knock on the door.

They were sitting in Snape's office, where Snape had invited Harry for a spot of tea that turned out to not be tea-related at all. What it really had been was an attempted shang-hai-ing into the Order. As a result, Harry was relieved when Snape called out "Enter." and a black-haired, green-eyed teenager appeared in the doorway.

Harry's dimensional theory was thoroughly disproved when Snape gave a slightly sarcastic greeting to the boy.

"I understand this may be hard for you to grasp, Mr. Potter, but school has been out of session for a week. What, pray tell, are you doing wandering about the school?"

"Sorry to interrupt, Professor, Mum just had to drop something off for Headmaster Dumbledore and I thought I'd come ask you a couple of questions about the summer assignment you gave us. Should I leave and just owl you the questions?" The younger Harry Potter cocked his head slightly to the left to await the answer. He was wearing a plain black robe open over a button-up muggle shirt and black slacks.

Harry was mildly surprised that Snape didn't seem to have any extreme animosity towards his younger version. He supposed it might have something to do with the fact that Lily Potter was apparently still alive.

"I think it might be a good idea for you to just owl me the questions, Mr. Potter. My guest is visiting on a rather sensitive matter—"

"Oh, don't mind me." Harry interrupted happily. "I'm just an inter-dimensional traveler."

"Oh, really?" little Harry inquired eagerly. "I've read lots of theories on dimension travel—"

"Ravenclaw" coughed Snape.

"—and it's absolutely fascinating. What does it feel like, crossing dimensions?"

"Really, Mr. Potter, I don't think that's a very appropriate question—"

"I do!" sang Harry. "Okay, let me explain it to you. You know how sometimes when you tie up a garbage bag to take it out it gets a little hole in the bottom, but you don't notice it, and then you carry the bag all the way through your house to the door and the entire time it's dripping out this little line of garbage juice, and then when you get to the front door you look down and realize you just dripped garbage juice through your entire house? Well, that's the feeling you get when you realize you've just stepped into an inconveniently placed dimensional vortex."

By the end of Harry's explanation, Snape and Little Harry were both staring at him like he was completely insane. Harry took slight offense to this, mostly because he considered himself very well-adjusted and it had taken a long time for him to get that way.

"Well, you asked what if felt like. Geez, some people…"

MEANWHILE, IN DUMBLEDORE'S OFFICE OF DOOM--I MEAN HAPPINESS

"Ah, Lily. So good to see you. Do come in, have a seat. Lemon drop?" Dumbledore motioned to a glass dish of lemon candies sitting on his desk.

"No thanks, Headmaster. I just came to drop off the Mysterious Object you asked for." Lily Potter levitated a package wrapped in barbed wire onto Dumbledore's desk. "It was a little difficult to track down, but I managed it. I assume all is well here at the school?"

"Actually, we've had an interesting visitor here. A dimension traveler, if you can believe it."

"Well, that's interesting. I thought dimension travel was a myth. Do you know how exactly they managed it?" Lily asked eagerly.

"According to him, he simply stepped into an inconveniently place dimensional vortex as he was leaving his place of employment."

Lily tilted her head slightly and frowned. "Where did he work?"

"A small private hospital, apparently." Dumbledore offered as he sucked a little too loudly to be polite on a lemon drop.

"Huh. I wonder why a hospital would have a need to study inter-dimensional travel…"

Dumbledore looked startled for a moment. Darn it all, he hadn't thought about that…Stupid "must trust every single person I meet" impulse.

"I don't know, Lily, that's a very good question. I suppose I'll have to ask him about that."

"Well, I probably need to track down Harry and get back home. Shall I leave my memories of the acquisition for you?"

Dumbledore beamed at her. "Yes, I would greatly appreciate that. I suppose you unleashed Harry on the school for the duration of the meeting?"

They both rose and relocated to the back table that Dumbledore's pensieve was resting on. "Actually, he wanted to ask Severus something about his Potions homework. He's probably down there driving him insane as we speak." They both laughed, then Lily removed her memories of the aforementioned event and placed them into the pensieve.

"Take good care of the Mysterious Object, Headmaster." Lily said as a parting shot.

"Oh, I will, my dear girl. I certainly will."

He considered inserting a nice, long, diabolical-sounding laugh there, but decided against it partly because Lily might have heard and partly because Fawkes the phoenix was giving him a look that said "I'm reading your mind and I'd just like to say don't even think about it".

"Really, Fawkes, diabolical laughing is both fun and educational. Good for the lungs, too. Why, just imagine, if Tom Riddle had practiced his diabolical laugh instead of torturing muggles, the world would be a much more peaceful place."

Fawkes responded to this by bursting into flame and being reborn as a chick in the ashes. He then gave a number of small baby-phoenix sounding chirps before curling up and going to sleep.

"WELL, how rude. Thinks he can have a dirty mouth just because he's a baby again…"


	3. Chapter 3

Inspiration strikes again. Fun fact: I wrote most of this chapter while sipping fresh brewed Earl Grey tea. Thank you, oh roommate of mine.

Disclaimer: See Chapter 2, which will put you on hold for 20 minutes before putting you through to Chapter 1.

"So, Wright."

Snape and Harry were currently returning from escorting Little Harry to Dumbledore's office. Once he had gotten over the initial shock of Harry's explanation of dimension travel, he had become a veritable fountain of questions. He was, in fact, a Ravenclaw. To the extreme. Harry had noticed several interesting things about him, though. First off, he had managed to tame his hair into laying flat, a talent Harry was extremely jealous of. Second, he didn't have a scar on his forehead. Not even the "ran into a wall as a toddler" kind of scar. Harry found this very suspicious, but hadn't thought of a good excuse to bring it up yet.

"You fought for the Order."

"Worked for the Order." Harry interrupted absently.

"Same thing," Snape plowed on, "so I bet you're a real macho warrior, always prepared for battle. At the drop of a pin, even."

Harry stopped in mid step and gave Snape a look of pure, unadulterated horror. "Macho? Is that really the best adjective you can come up with to describe me?"

Snape shrugged. "Well, sure. I mean, what else can you call it? Ready for battle at a moment's notice—that seems like a description fitting the word macho."

"I'm not ready for battle at a moment's notice, though, therebywherefore I am not macho." Harry gave Snape a particularly not-nice glare to accentuate his point.

Harry could have sworn an annoyed look crossed Snape's face for an instant.

They continued on in silence for a few moments. Snape looked suspiciously preoccupied with something, but Harry couldn't figure what it could be. Finally, he spoke up again.

"You'd probably love to prove me wrong, wouldn't you?"

Harry glanced warily at him. "Prove you wrong about what?"

"Oh, anything." Snape replied easily. "You would, wouldn't you?"

"Generally, yes…" Harry said hesitantly.

"Great!" Snape said happily.

Harry froze. Warning yodels were going off in his head—Snape was never happy—

The last thing Harry saw before he felt the familiar tug on the navel that a portkey produces was Severus Snape's smirking face.

SEVEN EXTREMELY TENSE SECONDS LATER

Harry landed, as usual, flat on his bottom. Boy, did he ever have a grudge against all things portkey-ish. He let himself flop onto his back and observed his surroundings for a moment.

His first thought was that he was going to absolutely murder Severus Snape.

He was lying in the middle of an active battlefield.

A person who looked suspiciously like a uniformed Death Eater loomed over Harry suddenly. Harry exercised a proactive stance on life and stupefied him.

He noticed a man limping towards him from another direction. Actually, it was a very familiar person—Charlie Weasley, he believed. Harry serenely poked his wand in the direction of Charlie's shattered kneecap, effectively healing it.

Then he watched in unhidden amusement as Charlie spun in a bewildered circle, trying to figure out who had fixed his knee.

Giving a great sigh, Harry resigned himself to his fate and heaved himself to his feet. So much for retiring from all things fighty.

Stupefying another Death Eater, Harry began stalking his way towards what appeared to be the main huddle of Order members.

By the end of the whole ordeal, Harry's head had been grazed by unfriendly spells twice, he was limping from various attacks aimed at his legs, and had been mistaken as an enemy by members of the Order too many times to count.

He finally found the person he had been looking for—Alastor Moody—and limped over. "Hey," he snapped, attempting (and failing) to kick Moody's peg leg out from under him. "gimme a portkey."

"And who the heck are you?" demanded Moody, turning his wand on Harry. "I'll—"

"You'll give me a dadblamed portkey is what you'll do. Snape may have conned me into coming down here and fighting with you idiots, but I refuse to stick around for the cleanup. Gimme a portkey!"

"Fine, fine." grumped Moody, who apparently now realized he was talking to someone Dumbledore had commissioned. "You can portkey out with that group of injured people over there." He pointed to a group of people that Harry didn't recognize.

"Thanks a lot." muttered Harry, then went and touched the portkey right before it was activated.

They landed in the Hogwarts Infirmary, and Harry once again cursed his clichéd life. Madame Pomfrey and Snape were both waiting for them. Harry stalked towards Snape—and for a second he could see fear flicker across his face—and walked past him to a bed without saying a word.

He laid completely silent while Madame Pomfrey treated him, refusing to even look at Snape. He was, in fact, exercising a good deal of control and repressing the urge to strangle Snape where he stood.

He was in the middle of his "101 things I can do to make Snape's life take a long drive off a short cliff" list when Madame Pomfrey told him he was free to go. He stood up, gathered his dignity, and calmly walked out of the Infirmary and down the hall.

Then he stepped into a classroom and sat on a desk. This was, of course, because of the fact that he had been here for a total of one night and half of a day, and the night had been spent unconscious in the Infirmary.

He supposed the odds of Dumbledore letting him leave the castle were slim…The old man had given him some odd looks for the brief amount of time he and Snape had spent in his office delivering Little Harry to his mother. Harry had gotten a real kick out of seeing his pseudo-mum. He supposed he might have been a little shaken up if he hadn't had the chance to talk to her back during the end of that whole Voldemort mess. As it was, he had watched with amusement as she scolded Little Harry for asking too many questions and had graciously accepted her apology for her behavior.

Deciding he'd better figure out exactly where he would be staying, he left the classroom and headed for Dumbledore's office. He hadn't made it far, though, before Snape appeared beside him.

"So, Wright."

"I'm going to have to take drastic measures to get you to stop saying words, aren't I?" Harry glared.

Snape, to his embarrassment, found himself impressed by how Harry could convey a complete, grammatically correct sentence through only his eyes.

"I heard you fought very well, and saved the lives of several Order members."

"That was a low thing you did, Snape." Harry snarled, then quickened his pace.

"I only did it because Dumbledore told me to!" protested Snape, hurrying to catch up to Harry. "It's not like I had a choice."

"Enjoyed it, though, didn't you?" muttered Harry, still in a bad mood.

"Well—maybe a little bit—"

"I knew it! Haha, funny, let's send some poor innocent healer who hasn't so much as seen a Death Eater in 20 years into the middle of a poorly orchestrated life-or-death struggle and see how he does. 20 Galleons says he loses a limb, 50 says he DIES!"

Now worrying that he was going to lose one of the only two people who had been friendly to him in the past 18 years, Snape began frantically apologizing. "Really, Wright, I wouldn't have done it if I didn't think you could take care of yourself. I mean—"

Snape suddenly realized that the face Harry was making looked suspiciously familiar…

"You—you—you've been playing me!" cried Snape indignantly.

"No, actually, I'm very irritated with you. You're awfully easy, though."

"I just hope you know," grumbled Snape, "That I'm going to call you Myrtle from now on. Every time I see you. 'Well, wotcher, Myrtle, how's it hanging? Groovy? Great. Glad to hear it.' That's what I'll say."

"You know, Snape, maybe if you actually left the dungeons from time to time you'd realize we're not in the 70s anymore. Honestly, 'how's it hanging? Groovy?' That's just sad."

And at that moment, in an unfrequented girl's bathroom somewhere in Hogwarts, a female ghost suddenly found herself feeling extremely offended for no apparent reason.


	4. Chapter 4

Behold, another (slightly shorter) chapter for your enjoyment. Leave me some reviews, please. I like to know how I'm doing…otherwise I'm just writing this thing for my roommate, and there's no point in it being on this site.

Disclaimer: It's like a bad tech support phone line. You're looking for the disclaimer, but you'll have to press every button on the phone and hold for two hours before you get it. Or, conversely, just go back to the first chapter and read it there.

Georgie the Gargoyle led a mostly peaceful life.

He had a pretty easy job with decent hours and good benefits. While there was a slight risk of bodily harm involved, it was mostly negated by the fact that he was made entirely of stone.

What really validated his job, though, wasn't the high respect others gave him, or the pay, or even the amazing dental plan.

No, what validated his job was getting to watch people guess his password.

Today, Georgie was having an especially entertaining day.

"Chocolate Frogs."

Georgie didn't move.

"Ice Mice."

Georgie was completely still.

"Cauldron Cakes."

Georgie remained unmoved.

"Oh, oh! My turn!" Harry eagerly bumped Snape away from Georgie and leaned close.

"Sheer leggings."

Georgie did a beautiful imitation of a mountain.

"Laundry detergent."

Georgie didn't move a stone muscle.

"Dirty socks."

"Wright, are you even trying?" An attempt by Snape to reclaim the spot in front of Georgie failed.

"Eiffel Tower-shaped rock."

Georgie was beginning to feel a bit nervous.

"Ten-sided snowflake."

Georgie resisted the urge to squirm.

"Oh my goodness, I inadvertently placed that rubber sock somewhere it wasn't supposed to go."

Georgie, realizing this person obviously knew his employer well enough to get into his office, leapt aside before his mind was scarred anymore.

Snape gave Harry an incredulous look. "How—"

"You don't want to know." Harry assured him quickly.

They rode the stairs up to Dumbledore's office in awkward silence. For once, when they reached the door, there wasn't a voice to call out "enter".

Harry knocked once on the door. Then he knocked on the door again.

He then began a series of knocks that sounded suspiciously like a muggle rap song.

Fortunately for Snape and his sanity, a hassled-looking Dumbledore opened the door a moment later. Harry and Snape were so shocked by the fact that Dumbledore had actually opened the door himself instead of calling them in that all three of them stood in the doorway staring at each other for a good 30 seconds.

At that point the stairs decided whoever was riding them had had enough time to get to the top and get off, and started spiraling back down, forcing Snape and Harry to scramble into Dumbledore's office and nearly bowling the frazzled headmaster over in the process.

"Right, right, whatever, come in, have a seat, eat a candy." mumbled Dumbledore as he regained his feet. Harry and Snape took seats in front of Dumbledore's desk and watched in slight alarm as the old man paced restlessly behind it.

"Headmaster—" Snape started tentatively.

"Lucius Malfoy is on his way here." Dumbledore said feverishly. "He's going to take control of the school. He's going to be headmaster!" Dumbledore looked disturbingly desperate at this news.

"Er, no offense, Headmaster, but hasn't Malfoy gotten control of the school once before? You know, a couple years ago?" Harry offered gently. Well, there was a pretty good chance that the major events of his world had happened here, right?

"What? Of course not! Why would I have let him take control of the school at all?" Dumbledore snapped.

Well, maybe not such a great chance. Time to wing it, then.

Snape seemed to still be processing the news. "When will he get here?"

"Right about—"

"Ah, Headmaster Dumbledore. Or, I suppose now it would just be Professor Dumbledore?" Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway of Dumbledore's office, looking well-quaffed and ridiculously arrogant as usual. "I see you haven't bothered to remove your things yet. Did the Ministry not give you sufficient warning?"

Harry drew himself up to his full height and prepared himself for the worst.

"Mr. Malfoy! Excuse me, Headmaster Malfoy. I hadn't heard, you see. You have the best timing—"

Snape and Dumbledore were both staring at Harry like he was completely out of his mind. Harry took a moment to take offense.

"My good friend Severus just asked me this morning to come take a look at Professor Dumbledore here—seemed to be worried about his mental state—and he was right. Why, just look at the poor man. I can see he's going to need serious medical attention."

Dumbledore, not in the proper mindset to understand subtlety, was giving Snape a highly scandalized look.

"I'm sorry," Malfoy said with an air of slight confusion, "but who are you?"

"Oh," Snape jumped in, having caught on, "this is a friend of mine, Healer Mikal Wright. He works at an obscure little private hospital, you see, and since Professor Dumbledore is such a high-profile figure I thought requesting a healer from St. Mungo's would draw undesired attention. Healer Wright offered to give him a quiet once-over, but obviously that isn't necessary."

Dumbledore now looked torn between anger and misery, and seemed to be on the brink of tears.

"Well, Merlin knows how many times you've complained to me about the way he runs things…" Malfoy hedged uncertainly.

Dumbledore gave a heart-rending sniffle.

"There, there, old chap." Harry said kindly, placing a soothing hand on Dumbledore's arm. "We'll take good care of you. Let's trot on down to the Infirmary and let Madame Pomfrey get some medicine in you."

"But—"

"No, no." Harry said with a bright smile, reaching up on tiptoe to place a finger on Dumbledore's lips. "No fuss now, the medicine will make you feel all better. Come on."

Snape and Malfoy watched in fascination as Harry led the distraught former Headmaster out of the office and down the stairs.

Malfoy turned to Snape expectantly.

"Yes," Snape said admiringly, "he always did have a way with the mentally ill."

At the bottom of the spiral staircase, Georgie the Gargoyle watched a Healer lead his meekly compliant employer away and realized he was going to owe that stupid flaming chicken a full week's pay. He knew the 100-year cap on the old man being institutionalized was too long…


	5. Chapter 5

Darnit, I sat down thinking "I am going to write a new chapter of The Uncontrollable Urge." Then this happened instead. Oh well. Enjoy the new chapter, and thanks to all the people who review (and review multiple chapters!).

Disclaimer: Technically, under copyright laws, by writing this parody I'm covered under a fair use exception. But if you really want to see a disclaimer for this story, check out the first chapter.

"Now, now, lil' buddy, don't cry. We're going to get you all fixed up." soothed Harry as he led Dumbledore to the Infirmary.

"What's that mean?" Dumbledore demanded with a sniffle.

"We'll discuss that when we get to the Infirmary."

After what seemed like an eternity to Dumbledore, the two of them finally reached the Infirmary. Madame Pomfrey met them at the door.

"Headmaster, I've just sent the last of the Order members home—there were no casualties, thank Merlin. I had to send a few on to St. Mungo's for further treatment—Albus, why on earth are you crying?"

That did it for Dumbledore, who promptly burst into full-blown sobs.

"I'm not crazy!" he bawled pathetically. "Poppy, you gotta believe me—I thought they were just going to demote me to professor, and then Severus called a healer on me, and they told me he was from an alternate dimension and it was all just a ploy to get me institutionalized and I want my office baaaaaack!"

"Oh dear," Madame Pomfrey said uncertainly, looking to Harry, "perhaps we had better get a calming potion in him?"

"That would probably be for the best." Harry agreed. Together they coaxed the still sobbing Dumbledore onto a bed and poured a calming potion down his throat. They waited a few moments for his breathing to slow down, during which time Madame Pomfrey and Harry had a little "getting to know you" chat.

"Well, Mr…"

"Healer, actually. Healer Wright."

"Ah, Healer. I believe we met briefly earlier today?"

"Yes, I was enlisted into fighting a battle with the Order. Quite violently, I might add."

"Let me guess—Severus?"

"You always were sharp."

"I don't think I've ever met you before today, Healer."

"Well," Harry said sheepishly, "actually, I really am from an alternate dimension. Snape and I may have pulled a little trick on Dumbledore to explain away my presence to Lucius Malfoy…"

"A trick!?!" demanded Dumbledore, who was by this point breathing normally and lucid enough to realize what was going on.

"Yes, a trick." Harry replied calmly. "You might even call it a prank, but whatever you call the thing it stopped Malfoy from questioning me and guaranteed you an unlimited stay in the castle."

"Wait. So you really are from an alternate dimension?" Dumbledore demanded suspiciously.

"I can give you a wizard's oath to prove it, if you like."

"No, no… But wait! A trusted Order member raised a very important question to me this morning. You claim you work at a small private hospital, but why would an institution like that be researching alternate dimensions?"

"If you must know, the Tech and Research department spent many long, fruitless years trying to find cures for the world's major diseases, muggle and magical alike. After about 50 years of no success, they gave up on that idea and instead started researching alternate dimensions, under the reasoning that if they could find a way to explore other versions of the world and return to their original world, they could find a dimension where the cures had already been discovered."

Dumbledore and Pomfrey both stared at Harry incredulously. Pomfrey found her voice first. "That—that's brilliant! Imagine, take a day trip to a different world and discover a cure for cancer!"

"Yes, well, as far as I know the only thing their research has led to is my landing here. But that is neither here nor there. I have a plan to keep Dumbledore here in the castle and me away from both awkward questions from the Ministry and doing dirty work for the Order. Care to hear it?" Harry paused to allow his audience to take the bait.

Dumbledore survived all of 30 seconds. "Alright already. Tell meee!"

Harry laughed. He had never gotten the chance to see this side of Dumbledore, and he was enjoying it. "Right. Dumbledore, my good man, you are insane. You've had a traumatic life full of hardships, and the recent threat of Voldemort has pushed you over the edge. There is hope, however. You've spent most of your life here at Hogwarts, and it's here that we're going to recapture your childhood and, through extensive roleplay therapy, we'll make you ready to enter society once again."

"What exactly does that mean?" Dumbledore and Pomfrey asked at the same time, followed by a hasty "Jinx! Jinx! Jinx darnit!" They glared at each other, obviously at a stalemate. Harry plowed ahead before their eye battle could get physical.

"Well, first of all I get to call you Al."

"Why Al?" Dumbledore demanded, turning his glare away from Pomfrey and onto Harry. "I've never liked that nickname."

"I dunno, I've just always wanted to name something Albus and call it Al. Your name is already Albus, so I'm going to call you Al. We can tell Malfoy it's the nickname you always wanted that everybody refused to call you."

"Fine, fine." grumbled Dumbledore. "Continue."

"Second, you have to follow my lead. At all times. If we enter a room with people in it and I act like we're in the middle of a conversation, you had darn well better play along."

"I can handle that. Anything else?"

"You should call me Capone."

"Why?"

"Eh, Snape will always address you first when he sees us, and I want to see how long it'll take him to catch on to what he's saying."

"I don't get it."

"Oh, you will. Don't worry." Harry gave Dumbledore an evil smile.

He then broke the awkward silence that followed by addressing Madame Pomfrey. "I need you to help out, as well. Tell Malfoy you and I have both given Dumbledore permission to remain in the castle. I'll come by tomorrow morning and tell you more. Can you handle it?"

Madame Pomfrey huffed in annoyance. "As if I couldn't handle something so simple."

"Great, then. Well, come on, Al." And with that, Harry and Dumbledore left the Infirmary.

"Er, Capone?"

"Yes, Al?"

"This may not be the best time to mention this, but there's this Mysterious Object that's of great importance to the Order, and it's sort of in my office. You know, where Malfoy, a known Death Eater, is currently residing. Just so you know."

Harry sighed. "What does it look like?"

"Well, it's pretty much just a nondescript brown package wrapped in barbed wire."

Harry grinned. "Perfect. Just follow my lead, Al, my friend. Now—To The Headmaster's Office! Away!"

Harry bounced down the hall, a slightly frightened Dumbledore following in his wake.

SEVERAL UNCOMFORTABLE MOMENTS LATER

"Capone, was there any particular reason you did ballet leaps all the way here?"

"No, not really. Now focus. Remember, follow my lead."

Harry then opened the door to Malfoy's new office and walked in like he owned the place. Malfoy and Snape, who had been discussing school policies Malfoy wanted to change, stared at Harry and Dumbledore in obvious surprise.

"Really, Healer, I would appreciate you having the decency to knock—"

Harry frantically shook his head 'no' at Malfoy and mouthed the words "rediscovering his childhood".

"Now, Al," he began in a soothing tone, "where exactly is the present that Cowboy Santa gave you?"

Dumbledore gave a pathetic sniffle. "I told you to stop lying, Capone. I know Cowboy Santa didn't really give it to me—Monty Smith told me Cowboy Santa was dead when I was just a little firstie!"

"Well, Monty Smith lied. Cowboy Santa is alive and well, and if he brought you the present like you said you must have been a very good boy this year. Now, show me where he left it."

Dumbledore made a timid whimpering noise in his throat and pointed to a wooden cabinet behind Malfoy's desk.

"Alright, good. Headmaster Malfoy, if you wouldn't mind checking Al's cowboy stocking?"

Malfoy glanced uncertainly at Snape, who nodded. Then, making sure not to make any sudden movements, Malfoy rose and opened up the cabinet. The only thing inside was a brown package wrapped in barbed wire.

"Oh, wow! He wrapped it right and everything! Cowboy Santa really does exist!" Dumbledore squealed happily.

Malfoy levitated the Mysterious Object towards Harry, who caught it with a levitation spell from his own wand.

"Well, Professor, Healer—" Snape started.

"Nuh-uh. I'm Al, and he's Capone. Get it right, Sever!"

"Sever!?!" Snape sputtered, obviously put out by the nickname.

"Just play along!" muttered Harry out the side of his mouth.

"Right, my apologies." Snape nodded politely towards Dumbledore. "Al." Then he nodded at Harry. "Capone."

Harry beamed. "Thank you for indulging him, gentlemen. If you'll excuse us."

Harry then ushered a still beaming Dumbledore out of the office and down the stairs, the Mysterious Object floating along behind them.

After a few moments of silence, Malfoy sighed. "I don't think I even want to know."

"I agree," Snape whined lightly. "I always feel like I'm the butt of some joke when I'm around Wright."


	6. Chapter 6

I wrote most of this chapter while I should have been teaching second and third graders about science. Less education for them, more fun for you.

Disclaimer: O Really? Ya, Really. Chapter One is where it's at.

Albus Dumbledore felt like he was flying high. He hadn't done something as daring as tonight's activities for at least forty years. He was practically bouncing as he followed Wright down the hall.

"Hey," he said eagerly, "that was great, Wright. A real masterpiece."

Harry grunted in return.

"I mean, I never thought I'd get to act like a crazy old man AND get something productive done."

"Sure." demurred Harry. He was focused on making it to his destination before he fell asleep standing up.

"So, where are we going?" Dumbledore inquired after a moment of slightly awkward silence.

"To a ready-made bachelor pad."

"Er, Wright?"

"Capone, remember?"

"Oh, right. Hey, Capone?"

"Yes, Al?"

"I don't think there's a bachelor pad in Hogwarts."

Harry grinned. Looks like this Dumbledore didn't know about the Room of Requirement, either.

"Well, ya see, Al, there's this room in Hogwarts called the "I Want It" Room. When you find it, it turns into whatever kind of room you want. So I'm going to want it to be a bachelor pad with room for two bachelors."

"I think I'm a little old to be considered—"

"Having unresolved sexual tension doesn't make you any less of a bachelor, Al. You wanna lose that title, you scare up some Gryffindor courage and ask McGonagall out."

Afterwards, Harry would claim that rendering Albus Dumbledore speechless for a good five minutes made the fact that that he had to run for his life when Dumbledore finally managed to get his jaw off the floor worth it.

By the time Harry managed to convince Dumbledore not to kill him, they were in front of the Room of Requirement. Harry motioned for Dumbledore to stand back, then paced back and forth in front of the blank wall, thinking hard of what he needed the room to look like. On the third pass, a door appeared and Dumbledore gave a little squeak of surprise. Harry led him inside, where they found a large room that looked a bit like a two-room apartment.

Harry instructed Dumbledore to make himself at home and proceeded to collapse onto one of the two beds in the room without even changing into the pajamas the room had thoughtfully laid out for him.

After an inconsequential dream, wherein a friendly dragon taught him how to speak Italian while cooking grilled cheese sandwiches, Harry woke up early, left Dumbledore a note telling him not to leave before he got back, and set out for the Infirmary.

He found Madame Pomfrey enjoying a cup of tea in her office. Harry was passingly impressed at how little had changed in the cluttered room.

"Madame Pomfrey?" he called from the doorframe, "Have a minute to talk?"

"Yes, yes, come in. Healer Wright, correct?" Pomfrey motioned for him to have a seat.

"Well, about that…" Harry waved his wand about a bit, casting a few privacy wards in case someone walked in on them.

"My real name isn't Wright." he admitted, smiling sheepishly. "I tried to tell Dumbledore and Snape my real name, and they blew me off as joking. I thought you might believe me, though. I was apprenticed to you my seventh year at Hogwarts, you know."

Pomfrey considered him over her cup of tea for a moment. "Prove you were my apprentice."

Harry nodded solemnly in agreement. He leaned forward, and at that moment, if they hadn't been behind a privacy ward, the entire castle (yes, all four or five people) would have heard a very high-pitched "Oh, my GOODNESS!"

"Well," Pomfrey huffed, her face fire engine red, "that does prove it, I suppose. I am the only person who knows that particular technique, and I've never had an apprentice. So, since you were my counterpart's apprentice, I'll assume you're a very honest man. Go on, tell me your true identity."

Harry fought back a loopy grin. How could he not have remembered that little trick?

"My real name is Harry Potter." he admitted cheerfully.

"Oh, is that all? And here I thought you would say something like Tom Riddle." Pomfrey returned, obviously amused.

"I was a bit surprised that Dumbledore didn't believe me, especially now that I know the Harry Potter in this world doesn't seem to have an extraordinary role to play in the war. I noticed he doesn't have a scar of any sort. Has he ever had an encounter with Voldemort?"

"Well, his father was killed in a raid by Voldemort. It was really a chance thing, though—he was an auror, as you probably know, and they were called out to what they thought would be a typical Death Eater attack. Turns out Voldemort was there in person. Harry was just a baby."

"Wait. So, as far as you know, there is no prophecy concerning Voldemort?"

"No, I've never heard of such a thing."

Harry was stunned. That explained an awful lot about the world he was stuck in. Of course if there was no prophecy then little Harry would be able to live a relatively normal life. Sure, he had still lost a parent, but he was alive, happy, and out of the spotlight.

Harry found himself fighting off a surge of jealousy.

"Harry? Is there such a thing in the world you come from?"

Harry soon found himself pouring out his life story to Madame Pomfrey. The two of them had gotten along well in his world, and were, in fact, still in touch.

Well, they had been before the whole dimensional vortex thing.

After finishing his sob story (although he was sure to end it on a happy note—"I make a lot of money, and would you look at my great hair!") he wasn't totally surprised to find himself the subject of a bear hug from Pomfrey.

She always had been a softy when it came to troubled kids, after all.

"Is there anything I can do for you, dear? Have a nice, long, talk with Albus for you?"

Harry laughed at the thought of Pomfrey chewing Dumbledore out for choosing that random moment to not trust someone. "No, actually, it's probably better that he doesn't know. Same goes for Snape. He's tolerated me pretty well, so far, but I'm not sure how he would react to a second Potter running around."

Pomfrey chuckled with him and, to Harry's chagrin, ruffled his hair. "Well, if you need anything, just let me know."

"Oh, I will. For now it'll be enough for you to keep Malfoy off my back. Now," he gave her an only half-mocking bow, "I must beg your leave. I feel I have mischief to stir up with good old Al."

With that parting shot, which gave Madame Pomfrey another set of giggles, Harry left the Infirmary and headed back towards the Room of Requirement.

He flung the door to the room open and marched in, completely disrupting Dumbledore's previously peaceful breakfast, lovingly provided by the house elves.

"Al!" he declared brightly, taking a seat across from him at the small table the room had provided and stealing a chocolate-chip pancake from his plate. "Today, we start the revolution!"

Dumbledore stared at the crazy man who continued to throw him off his game in obvious fear. "What revolution?"

"The Ravenclaw Revolution, of course. Sure, they sit all quiet-like in the library, with the books and the studying and the smartness, but we all know all they need to get going is a spark—just a little spark—and WHAM! there they go. Viva la revolutionie!"

When Dumbledore continued to stare at him like he was insane, Harry first took a moment to be offended, then snapped at him. "Why aren't you writing this down or memorizing it? You're going to have to recite it with passion for Malfoy after Madame Pomfrey tells him we're in the library rediscovering your childhood."

"Oh!" Dumbledore immediately began muttering different variations of what Harry had said under his breath, apparently trying to settle on a version that sounded best.

"Come on, come on, come on. You can figure it out on the way." Harry jumped up and grabbed Dumbledore by the arm, pulling him out of the room.

FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER, IN THE LIBRARY

"That's right, you lousy intellects! Rise up! Use your book-knowledge and conversation-killing abilities to destroy the rest of the school's population! Tonight, we dine! On the souls of the ILLITERATE!" Dumbledore howled, pumping his fist in the air.

Malfoy, who was standing in the doorway looking absolutely horrified, sent a pleading look at Harry, who was standing next to Dumbledore on top of Madame Pince's desk. Harry shook his head 'no' at him and mouthed the words "one moment". He then motioned for Snape, who had entered the library with Malfoy, to come take his place on the desk. Snape did as requested, then at Dumbledore's pout pumped his own fist in the air half-heartedly and muttered "Viva la revolution."

"Viva la revolutionee!" Dumbledore corrected haughtily, then went back to giving his fiery speech to a library full of imaginary Ravenclaw students.

"Just look at it this way, Headmaster." offered Harry to a still mortified Malfoy. "At least we're getting this out of the way now, before the students come back."

"Yes," Malfoy managed, forcing his face into a less alarmed expression. "imagine what would have happened if he had done this with a library full of real Ravenclaws."

"Yeah, we might have had a real uprising on our hands. I hear Ravenclaws know more damaging spells than the average student. We might have been forced to have a real battle for control of the school."

Malfoy stared at him in disbelief. "That's not what I—"

"I know, I know. We all think we can handle a room full of rowdy students at first, but when they're armed with wands and knowledge and are bent on taking down the Man, it turns into a madhouse pretty quick."

Malfoy, as Harry had suspected, was completely lost. "Er, I suppose so?"

"Unless, of course, the Man is a woman. Then it gets all kinds of complicated." Harry continued, enjoying Malfoy's discomfort far more than he should have. He figured if he and Dumbledore could keep Malfoy on his toes all summer, the thought of having to deal with Dumbledore on top of a few hundred students would drive him out of the castle.

Deciding his current job was done, Harry motioned for Dumbledore to be quiet. "Alright, Al, stop pestering the Ravenclaws. Let's go to the Hufflepuff common room and incite them to riot."

Dumbledore's face positively lit up at this offer, and he happily jumped off the desk and moved to join Harry at the door.

When it became obvious Malfoy wasn't going to find his voice anytime soon, Snape took the initiative to see them off. "Al, Capone. Enjoy your Hufflepuff torture. I know I always do."

Harry laughed out loud—mostly at Snape, although it could have also passed as an evil laugh—and led Dumbledore out of the library.

"One of these days," Snape said with a scowl, "I'm going to figure out why he laughs every time I refer to him and Dumbledore in the same sentence."


	7. Chapter 7

Movin' right along, footloose and fancy free… Here's another chapter for your enjoyment.

Disclaimer: Yeaaaah…No. Not here. Try the first chapter instead.

After terrorizing imaginary Hufflepuffs, confusing imaginary Gryffindors, and inciting imaginary Slytherins to storm an imaginary Ministry of Magic, Harry and Dumbledore decided they had done enough damage for the day. They had actually interrupted Malfoy's ceremonial first dinner in the Great Hall, and had nearly pushed the stoic man to tears.

"Severus," he had nearly sobbed, "why in Merlin's name did I take this job?"

"Errrr, the great benefits?"

As Harry and Dumbledore fled the hall, Harry was sure he heard the ominous thud of a head having an intimate relationship with a wooden table.

Afterwards, Harry left Dumbledore in the Room of Requirement and went in search of Snape. After dallying about a bit to give him time to ditch a probably hysteric Malfoy, Harry made his way to Snape's office and started banging on the door.

Predictably, after a few short minutes of this Snape appeared looking extremely irritated. "What in Merlin's name are you making that racket for?"

"Well," huffed Harry, "it's not like you have a doorbell."

Snape made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat and motioned Harry through the office and into the small hidden passage behind it that led to his personal quarters. Once there, Snape relaxed into an armchair and Harry took the liberty of flopping sideways onto a matching couch.

"So, Snape." Harry started, his serious tone of voice clashing with the haphazard way he was stretched out. "You and I need to have a serious talk about Voldemort."

"I understand he's just a distant memory to you, Wright, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't say his name."

To Snape's surprise, Harry didn't argue.

"The Dark Lord, then. I just need to know how far you are in regards to putting him down for good."

"At the moment, we're mostly fighting a guerilla war, with the Order and aurors on one side and Death Eaters on the other. We think that the Dark Lord has amassed a large force, but he seems to be content to test the waters with small skirmishes, so to speak."

Harry propped himself up on one elbow and leaned forward slightly. He was making Snape incredibly nervous—the man had never seen Harry be anything less than completely ridiculous, and his sudden turn to solemn had thrown Snape off.

"Tell me this: is there any prophecy that you know of concerning the Dark Lord? Anything at all about the conditions of his defeat?"

"I've never heard of such a thing." Snape frowned lightly. "As far as I know, any lucky shot from the crowd could kill him, just like it could Dumbledore or Head Auror Bones. Some say that's the reason he rarely shows himself in battle."

"He hasn't made any horcruxes?"

For a man approaching forty, Snape managed to get out of the armchair and whip his wand out remarkably fast. "Wright," he snarled through gritted teeth, wand aimed at Harry's chest, "every time I start to have a little faith in you, you suddenly come out with a bit of information you aren't supposed to have. Horcruxes are the blackest of black magic. You have about ten seconds to explain to me how you know about them before I stun you and turn you in to the Ministry."

Harry growled in response. "I know because it was my job to destroy the ones the Dark Lord in my dimension made. If you had half the brain you claim to have, you'd know that if I had performed magic as black as making a horcrux I wouldn't be nearly as good at healing magic as I am. It's a shame you're as big a dunderhead as I usually have to deal with."

Satisfied for the moment, Snape lowered himself back into the armchair, but didn't put his wand away. "That's my line you've stolen." he muttered sulkily.

"You certainly used it against me enough back in school, it's only fair I repay the favor." Harry smirked.

"That's not fair at all, Wright. I never taught you."

"Yes, but I never got the chance to turn it on my Snape."

Afterwards, a ten-minute glaring contest chased all remaining seriousness out of the room.

LATER THAT NIGHT, AFTER SEVEN GLARING CONTESTS AND SEVERAL ROUNDS OF TEA

Harry made his way out of the dungeons and up towards the Room of Requirement, humming softly to himself.

He felt a little better after his talk with Snape. When he had found out that Little Harry of this world didn't have a connection to Voldemort, he had been a little worried that the responsibility would fall to him. After all, he had enjoyed twenty years of peace, and until the defeat of Voldemort fate had never been content unless he had some frantic quest to complete at least once a year.

Now, though, he appeared to be off the hook. If any shmoe off the street could take down Voldemort, then there was no reason for Harry to be involved at all.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that, but there it was.

When he finally reached the Room of Requirement, he found Dumbledore bent over a table in the middle of the room, scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment.

"Wright!" he declared excitedly. "Guess what!"

Harry took a nervous step backwards. "What?"

"I've decided that this whole 'get demoted and pretend to be senile' thing is as close to a vacation as I'm ever going to get. So I'm writing a book!"

"A book?" Harry questioned skeptically. "You're going to write a whole book in the few months you'll have off before we run Malfoy out?"

"Yeah, it'll be the first one in a series. I have a great idea for the plot—you wanna hear it?"

Harry laughed. "Sure, why not."

"Okay," Dumbledore started brightly, "so I thought I'd use people that really exist and put them in crazy situations. Like, Harry Potter is a nice lad, and his name flows really well. Don't you think?"

"Sure, Harry Potter is a great name." Harry reassured with complete sincerity.

"Exactly! So I'll make him the protagonist. He'll be an orphan—orphaned by Voldemort, that's even better—and then he'll grow up with a terrible family, and then he'll come to Hogwarts and have lots of adventures. Then when he gets older I'll reveal that he's the only one capable of defeating Voldemort. That will add some angst. Every good epic needs a little angst, you know."

Harry seemed to be having trouble finding his voice.

Dumbledore took his silence as a sign to go on. "So anyway, he'll go on this quest to discover how to kill Voldemort and save the world, and lots of people he likes will die, because that adds even more angst and the readers will like it. And at the end, he'll vanquish Voldemort and get married and have lots of babies and live happily ever after. What do you think, Wright? Does it have potential?"

After a long moment of staring at Dumbledore with a look of utmost horror on his face, Harry finally managed to find his voice.

"You're a horrible person, I hate you, and I hope you die in a fire."

And with that, he turned right back around and left the room again.

Dumbledore gave a weary sigh. "It's just the curse of being a writer, I guess. Everybody's a critic."


	8. Chapter 8

This chapter is proof that when I procrastinate on things like, oh, research papers, the rest of the world profits. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: It's like there are people on this site who actually believe fanfiction writers claim authorship of the actual books we're making fun of—I mean, the books we're writing about. So, for those folks who believe I have a JKR shrine in my little dorm closet and fear I will attempt to steal the Harry Potter franchise: fear not. For full details, see Chapter 1. (is it me, or does this little disclaimer thing get longer every time I avoid actually saying it?)

In a small town somewhere in England, there was a quaint little two-story house that the average person's eyes tended to glide over, almost as though it wasn't there. It was a lovely cream color and had a pretty little flower garden in front.

Inside this quaint little house, in a quaint little bedroom, (that happened to be painted in conservative blues) a teenaged boy with neatly combed black hair and shimmering green eyes was sitting at a desk, scribbling furiously at a long, partially unrolled piece of parchment.

This piece of parchment was important—to the boy—because written on it was his summer Potions homework. He had owled his Potions professor several questions pertaining to the topic and format of the essay two days previous, and after receiving a delightfully speedy reply he had tackled the assignment with fervor.

Finishing off the last paragraph with a little noise of delight, the boy snatched the parchment off of the desk and made a hasty exit from the room. He leapt down the quaint little staircase and into the quaint little kitchen, where his mother was pulling out sandwich components in preparation for lunch.

"Mum!" he gasped out.

"What!" the red-haired woman who was currently hovering in the doorway of a refrigerator gasped back.

"LookIfinishedmyessayyouweregoodatpotionswillyoureadoveritformeplease?!?"

The boy really was gasping for breath after that whopper, so his ever-patient mother took pity on him and for once didn't act like she hadn't understood him.

"I was good at potions in school, but I haven't had any real practice in a long time. Why don't you write Remus and send him a copy—I'm sure he'd be thrilled to hear from you, Harry."

"Maybe," Little Harry postulated as he finally got his breath back, "I'll write him and ask him to come read it in person. He's never in town…"

"Don't you dare!" snapped Lily Potter as she removed a jar of mustard from the fridge and relocated it to the kitchen table. "You know good and well that he spends all that time out of the country on business for Dumbledore. You'll only make him feel guilty if you start begging him to come back before he planned to."

"Sorry, sorry. I'll send him a copy." Then, in a sly tone, "Hey, Mum. You think Severus would read over it for me if I sent it to him?"

"I think that he would murder you if he caught you referring to him as anything other than 'Professor' while you're still attending Hogwarts." Lily returned dryly. "Besides, it would hardly be fair to the other students if you had a professor to check your work for you."

"I bet he would if I pestered him enough." Little Harry muttered.

"Harry James Potter, there will be no pestering of either one of your godfathers. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am." he agreed meekly as he slathered a slice of bread with mayonnaise.

"Good. Now hurry and eat so you can send Remus that paper."

Little Harry grinned and slathered mustard on his other bread slice. "I shall indeed, yea, in a most solemn manner—"

"Very funny…"

It also happened that, if the quaint little house wasn't invisible to the average person, the sound of happy laughter drifting out of it would have been considered a fairly common occurrence in the little town.

On another note, the Harry Potter that was currently running about under the alias of Mikal Wright might have been interested to know that in his current dimension of residence, Sirius Black had never spent time in Azkaban—he had been killed in the battle that claimed James Potter's life.

Of course, at the moment, he had more important things to worry about.

BACK AT HOGWARTS, SCHOOL OF MAGICAL GLEE

Harry Potter, better known at this point as Mikal Wright, bounced into the Great Hall with an equally perky Dumbledore trailing behind him. He opened his mouth to proclaim something so sanity-busting that Malfoy would be gone within a day's time. He had spent all night perfecting it—

"Hey," he said, "where's Malfoy?"

Snape, who was sitting alone at the teacher's table enjoying a bowl of tomato soup for lunch, didn't even bother to glance up, which was a shame because if he had he would have been treated to the sight of Dumbledore walking into the back of Harry, resulting in a rather slapstick scene.

"He left for his office last night muttering about 'hiding in my chambers and never coming out ever'. He's probably eating in his office to avoid you two."

Harry paused a moment for dramatic effect—he was feeling a bit show-boat-ish—and then made a new pronouncement. "To the headmaster's office!" He spun around, tripped over Dumbledore's feet, and flew face-first into the hallway.

"Want to come, Severus?" Dumbledore offered politely.

"I'd like to keep my sanity, thanks." Snape replied dryly.

Dumbledore shrugged. "Suit yourself."

TEN MINUTES LATER

After passing Georgie the Gargoyle with no problems, Harry and Dumbledore found themselves at the door to the headmaster's office. Harry knocked once. Then he knocked again.

The he beat on the door in a rhythm that sounded suspiciously like a muggle rap song, not that Dumbledore recognized it.

After about five minutes of this, Harry decided to be proactive and he tried to open the door.

To both Harry and Dumbledore's surprise, the door wasn't locked.

A brief examination of the office determined that Malfoy wasn't there. Harry motioned for Dumbledore to stay quiet and ascended the staircase that led to the balcony of the office that led to the headmaster's living quarters.

The dubious duo was even more surprised to find that the door to Malfoy's personal chambers wasn't locked. Harry tiptoed in and found, to his delight, that Malfoy was still asleep in bed.

Harry cautiously leaned over Malfoy's prone form and poked him gently on the forehead. "Lucius," he crooned in a disturbing falsetto, "Lucius, buttercup, it's time to wake up."

"Cut it out, Cissy." Malfoy mumbled, not opening his eyes. "'M tired. Lemme sleep."

"But Lucius, I just want to—"

"Not now, Cissy. We can play later, okay?"

"Why, Headmaster, I didn't know you felt that way about me." Harry replied in his normal tenor.

Harry and Dumbledore were then treated to a pajama-clad Malfoy flailing about like a snake in distress. He shrieked like a little girl, got tangled in his sheets and ended up face-up on the floor.

"Wha—don't—ah!" he gasped out when he saw Harry. Then, when he noticed Dumbledore—"Ahhhh!"

Harry's face split into an almost predatory smile. "Good morning, Headmaster."


	9. Chapter 9

Well, folks, this is the end. No, really. This is the end of the story proper, although I might go back and explore some little plot points I left open as extras. I've had the last page or so of this chapter written for about two months, and I'm glad I finally managed to get there. It's been fun, I reckon, and I'd appreciate it if you left me a review and told me if you enjoyed it, too.

Disclaimer: Well, ya know.

"SNAAAAAAAAAAAPE!"

In the Great Hall, Severus Snape was taking a rare moment alone to slurp the last little bit of tomato soup out of his bowl (an action he would never take in the presence of others).

"SNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPE!"

Snape choked on his soup.

A few short minutes later a pajama-clad Lucius Malfoy entered the Great Hall at a run.

"Lucius," Snape said once he could breathe again, "I never knew you wore footies."

"Severus, it's too much. I can't take it anymore." Snape blinked in shock—Lucius was actually crying.

"By Merlin, Severus, it's too much. The crazy old man, the creepy healer, the imaginary Ravenclaws—if it's this bad now, how much worse will it be when the students get here?"

"Lucius—"

"I'll go insane!" bawled Malfoy.

Snape wisely withheld a comment about how likely it was that this had already happened.

"Oh, there you are, Headmaster. You frightened Al, shrieking like that." scolded Harry from the side entrance of the hall.

Dumbledore was, in fact, cowering behind Harry.

"YOU!" Malfoy shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at Harry. "I'm not dealing with you anymore—I don't have to—I quit!"

Harry felt a small amount of pity for Malfoy—the man had caused him a lot of grief in his own dimension, but in the end had abandoned Voldemort for the sake of his family, and that had to count for something.

"Now, Mr. Malfoy, there's no need to be hasty." Harry said in his 'I am dealing with a hysterical and irrational patient' voice. "You've inherited a stressful position here. Why don't you take a few months off, give control of the school to someone you trust, and just go home and relax. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Malfoy sniffled a bit. "I guess—er—Severus, you like being in charge, don't you?"

Snape, who had obviously expected to be left out of this little conversation, started in surprise. "Wha?"

"Yes," muttered Malfoy, paying no attention to the bewildered look on Snape's face, "that'll do. I'll put the paperwork in this afternoon." Then, to the room at large, "I'm leaving. Right now. Nobody move—just stay where you are—I don't want anything else to do with you crazy people. Severus, good luck. You'll need it."

And with that, he scurried back out of the room, presumably to flee the castle.

Once Malfoy's hurried footsteps could no longer be heard echoing through the Great Hall, Dumbledore straightened from his cower and beamed at Snape.

"Congratulation, Severus! Imagine, all these years you've been aspiring to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, and here you are Headmaster. Good show!"

Snape seemed to be having trouble finding his voice.

Harry smirked. "I couldn't think of anyone better for the job."

"He—he can't just appoint me Headmaster…"

"I believe he just did, my boy." Dumbledore replied, beaming brightly.

Afterwards, a loud thump echoed through the hall and surrounding hallways.

Harry never would have guessed that Snape was a fainter.

A COUPLE MONTHS LATER

School at Hogwarts had been in session for about a week, and Harry and Dumbledore were still running around as the deadly duo of Al and Capone, much to the student's delight. They generally made as much havoc as Peeves, but with a lot less malice.

Snape turned out to be a tough but fair headmaster, so no one was complaining too loudly about his new position. To Harry's surprise, it seemed that he wasn't as cruel as he had been in his own dimension anyway, so some students (and not just Slytherins) actually missed him in the classroom.

It was a crisp Saturday afternoon when Snape got word that Voldemort himself had appeared in a skirmish against the Order. He hastily contacted Dumbledore, and soon enough Al and Capone made their way to his office.

"Any word, Severus?" demanded Dumbledore anxiously.

"I received a message that the battle was over, but I haven't gotten a casualty report yet."

Harry frowned. "Send the wounded to the Infirmary. I'll go give Madame Pomfrey a heads up."

MANY HOURS LATER

Harry slumped into a chair in the Infirmary. There had been an almost constant flow of wounded for nearly the entire day, and Harry was worn out. He wasn't used to such large crowds of people with such serious wounds. He was a peacetime healer, darnit.

To make matters worse, they had all been babbling excitedly about something or other. Harry and Madame Pomfrey hadn't been able to make head or tails out of it, and had pretty much ignored the excited whispers.

Madame Pomfrey stuck her head out of her office. "Snape was just on the floo asking for you, dear. Why don't you hop through?"

Harry obligingly stepped through the floo and into the headmaster's office. He was surprised to be met by a smiling Snape.

Wait. Smiling…Snape?

"Sit down, Wright." the normally sour man was positively beaming.

"Snape?" Harry questioned nervously.

"I'd say we're friends at this point, wouldn't you, Wright?"

Harry gave Snape a suspicious look. "Well, I suppose you could say we're friends of a sort, yes." Harry certainly got along with this Snape better than the one in his universe.

"Great!" Snape said brightly, pouring Harry a cup of tea. "In that case, I have wonderful news, just between friends. Okay?"

"Alrighty, shoot." Harry offered.

"There were a lot of casualties in today's battle."

"I noticed."

"I'm sure you did. Anyway—there were lots of casualties—but one was more shocking than the rest." If Snape had been beaming before, he was halfway to splitting his face in two now.

"Spit it out already!" groaned Harry.

"Voldemort is dead. Done. Finished. Gone for good!" Snape pulled up his left sleeve and proudly displayed the unblemished skin on his forearm.

Harry's grin suddenly matched Snape's. "That's great! I mean, that's great for the wizarding world in general, and great for you individually, and—and—that's just great!"

The two of them laughed happily and settled back with their tea.

"So tell me—how did they get him?" Harry demanded eagerly.

"You won't believe it." declared Snape.

"Try me." then, at Snape's widening grin, "Come on, Snape, it can't be that bad."

"Mundungus Fletcher."

Harry gave Snape a blank stare. "What's that dirty bum got to do with it?"

"He killed Voldemort. Caught him in the neck with a badly-aimed reducto. Can you believe it? The man couldn't hit an elephant if it was standing two feet in front of him, but here he goes, taking out the deadliest dark lord in centuries."

Harry stared at Snape in pure shock. He had purposely tried to stay out of the conflict in this dimension, but still a part of him had believed that he would end up having a hand in this Voldemort's demise. After the defeat of Voldemort in his universe, even after he had publicly announced his move into the healing profession, every time a Death Eater popped back up or the government got wind of a potential dark lord, the first person they turned to was Harry. He had pretty much given up on being relieved of the responsibility that came with the title Boy-Who-Lived. The fact that some random shmoe had destroyed Voldemort was rather like a slap to the face, and Harry wasn't sure how to react.

He realized belatedly that the smile had faded from his face and Snape was looking almost concerned.

"Wright? Are you all right?"

"I'm…"

"Wright?"

Harry had never really wanted anything more than to slip out of the public eye and heal people in peace. He had always simply assumed that it would never be that way because he was an important figure, the person everyone looked to at the first sign of trouble. But…

"That's it." Harry murmered.

"What?" Snape questioned.

"I don't matter." he replied softly.

"Wright?" Snape questioned again, worried by his friend's sudden mood swing.

"I don't matter," Harry said with a little more force, "I'm not important."

"Look, Wright, I know you were pretty active in the war in your dimension, even though you seem to enjoy trying to hide it, but the fact that you didn't do much here doesn't make you worthless—" Snape reached out to put a hand on Harry's shoulder, but Harry jerked away and jumped up.

"No, no, Snape, you don't understand." Harry babbled furiously.

"I'm not important. I'm not important! I don't matter, Snape, whether I live or die has no lasting effect on the wizarding world or the world in general!" Harry was yelling at this point, and Snape found himself at a loss for what to do.

"Wright, I—I don't know what to say—I think you're important—"

"No, Snape, listen—I'm not important, I'm free, I don't matter anymore! I'm _free_!"

Harry lunged at Snape and wrapped him in a brief but firm and completely many bear hug, then pulled back and stepped out of Snape's office.

And, ironically enough, right into an inconveniently placed dimensional vortex.

END


	10. Super Bonus Go!

Hello again, readers of this fic! I bet you thought you had seen the last of this story, but you were _wrong _(insert evil laughter here). Anyway, I recall hinting that I would write some bonus content for this story in the last chapter, and this story has recently hit twenty _thousand_ hits, so in commemoration I wrote this little bonus epilogue. I hope you all enjoy it. (also: please be watching my profile page in the future, because my daughter/junior has drawn a comic about the adventures of Mikal Wright and little Harry—as soon as she gets it scanned, I'll be putting a link to it up)

Snape stared in disbelief at the space just outside his door where Wright had disappeared.

Then he stared in disbelief at his almost-empty tea cup.

His first thought was, "I thought I _didn't_ spike that tea…"

His second thought was, "Oh dear. Dumbledore and Pomfrey are going to murder me."

His third thought was, "I wonder if Wright would care if I drank his tea, too?"

At that point the gravity of the situation hit him, and he lunged out of his desk and into the hallway. "WRIGHT!" he howled frantically, then took off in a run towards the Room of Requirement, where Dumbledore and Wright had been living. When he got there, a good eight-minute run later, he nearly fell over himself running back and forth the three times necessary to reveal the door.

"Why, my dear boy," Dumbledore started cheerfully—

Snape promptly interrupted him. "Wright's disappeared! Just stepped out of my office and disappeared!"

Dumbledore frowned. "Are you sure he wasn't just pulling a prank on you? You know he enjoys that kind of thing…"

"I'm quite sure I would have noticed a sleight of hand. In case you've forgotten, I tend to have the upper hand while dealing with Wright." Snape said indignantly.

Dumbledore had several thoughts about a series of events that started with an 'M' and ended with a 'alfoy', but decided that for his own safety he shouldn't mention them aloud. "Let's not panic." he said instead. "Maybe he was whisked away by a house elf for an emergency, or perhaps a student was playing a prank."

"The Ravenclaw uprising!" hissed Snape menacingly.

"Er, right. First place I'd check is the infirmary. And even though I'm not in charge anymore, I was headmaster before you so I've got seniority and you've got to do what I say."

"But—"

"Onward!"

And so Snape and Dumbledore made their way to the Infirmary.

When they arrived, they were immediately greeted by Madame Pomfrey. "Well, what is it this time? Broken limb? Snapped spine? Snape's head come off again?"

"That wasn't funny." protested Snape from behind Dumbledore.

"I dunno, I thought it was kind of funny—"

"Boys!" Madame Pomfrey interrupted, probably staving off a good deal of silly old man violence.

"The reason we're here," Snape sniffed after gathering his dignity back up, "is to ask if you've seen Wright. He disappeared."

"He didn't _really_ disappear." scoffed Dumbledore. "Personally, I think he's just playing a trick on Severus."

"Wright is quite capable of being rude, but I don't think he would have played a trick at a time like the one he disappeared in. We were having quite the emotional moment."

"Aww, you were _bonding_. I'm so proud!"

"Sir, with all due respect, shove off—"

"DID you happen to notice exactly how he disappeared?" Pomfrey said crossly.

"Well, he ran out of my office, and as soon he stepped foot outside my office door he just disappeared." said Snape unhappily.

"And did either of you ever actually talk to him about how he got here in the first place?"

Snape and Dumbledore shared an uncomfortable look and shifted around a bit.

"Well," said Dumbledore uncertainly, "it never really came up. I mean, we were always very busy, you know, doing things."

Snape nodded in agreement.

Pomfrey gave a weary sigh. "That is the exact way he came to be in our world. Of course, you never believed anything else he told you, so I'm not sure why I bothered to even ask."

"That isn't true," Snape protested. "of course we listened to him. He was an invaluable source of information concerning the war. He had been through it once already, after all."

"No, no, I mean really _listened_. What was the first thing he told you when he arrived here?"

"I think it was something along the lines of 'terribly sorry about breaking your leg', actually—"

"I mean later, when he was in the infirmary because you knocked him out. You asked him what his name was, and he told you the truth and you _didn't listen_. You accused him of lying, in fact." Pomfrey said with a glare.

"That's ridiculous. He can't have _really_ been Harry Potter." scoffed Snape.

"What's Harry done?" Snape and Dumbledore both jumped as Lily Potter stuck her head out of Pomfrey's office.

"Well, if he's gone like you say he is there's no point in hiding it for his sake. Mikal Wright is really the Harry Potter of an alternate dimension."

The three non-Potter inhabitants of the room immediately braced themselves for a hysterical woman.

"Are you kidding me?" Lily demanded in obvious distress.

"Look, Lily, we're sorry—"

"The poor thing was probably an orphan! I could have been pampering him! Oh, I bet he's never had a mum to tell him off and I missed the opportunity. And I could have had him over for dinner—Poppy, why didn't you tell me about this? I knew he and my Harry got along surprisingly well."

"Er—" Pomfrey said helplessly.

"Oh, don't even start with me. I've got to talk to someone with some sense. I'm off to write a nice long letter to Remus. And you should all be ashamed of yourselves! Helping him keep secrets from his own sub-dimensional mother. Absolutely ridiculous…"

The others breathed sighs of relief as Lily's voice faded down the corridor.

"So Wright was a Potter. It seems I'm destined to like them after all. I bet fate's having a nice loud laugh on my behalf right now." Snape said miserably. "Which reminds me that our Harry's asked me to read over his thesis for his Potions project this year. I'd better hop to it—last thing I need is for Lily to be even angrier at me…"

While all this was going on, the Harry Potter who was sometimes known as Mikal Wright was being given a cross word or two by a grown-up Hermione Weasley. "You said you'd be here twenty minutes ago. The kids are going crazy for Uncle Harry and Ron and I are running late for our date. We get you to watch the kids instead of some teenager to _avoid_ problems like this, you know."

"Honest, Hermione, I tried to make it on time—it's just that I stepped into this inconveniently placed dimensional vortex, and I've spent like six months in another world, and I just go back! You wouldn't believe—"

"Really, mate, if you worked a little later than you meant to at the office, just say it. Save the stories for the kids." laughed Ron Weasley from behind his wife. "Hey, kids! Uncle Harry's got an exciting new story just for you!"

Harry winced at the excited shrieks that issued from inside the doorway at that announcement. He was never going to get them down for bed at this rate…

"Yes, alright. Come in then, Harry. Ron, we've got to go. Just send Prongs down if anything life-threatening happens. Oh, and watch little Arthur, he's gotten into the habit of swallowing things that aren't supposed to be swallowed…"

Harry and his godchildren waved from the living room as Ron dragged his wife into the fireplace and yelled the name of London's new most exciting fancy restaurant.

Once they were gone, Harry turned back to the expectant faces of the Weasley children and gave a resigned sigh.

"Okay, kids, Uncle Harry's got a great new story for you guys. And I'll tell you right now, the moral of it is to never step outside your office door without extreme caution…"

END


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